


steadied

by skimthrough (proofinyou)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Bobbi and Hunter miss Isabelle Hartley, F/M, Fluff, Mild Language, Romance, Snapshots, and they're maybe on the run, anyway THEY ARE IN LOVE!, but I'm good at being vague about things that I don't know how to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 15:22:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7623928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/proofinyou/pseuds/skimthrough
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>snapshots from bobbi and hunter's first year post-S.H.I.E.L.D.</p>
            </blockquote>





	steadied

leaving S.H.I.E.L.D. feels like losing everything in a natural disaster, all gone in one swift motion, out of nowhere. a decisive punch to the gut, hands empty, and no choice but to take a step forward. you can look back all day, but there’s nothing there.

//////////

the first spot bobbi and hunter travel to after it’s all over is to visit hartley. she’s where she has been for the last year and a half; her body six feet under and her soul, god-willing, in someplace made for only the best of people.

the sun tries to make them a fool, convince them that this is a happy moment, brightening everything in sight. bobbi loses count of how many flower arrangements they pass on the walk in. wilted or fresh, dainty or lavish, they’re all beautiful. she hides her empty hands in her pockets, trekking on.

they stand away from hartley’s headstone, studying it in silence for the first time together. hunter’s breathing turns less stable, and a lot heavier. bobbi’s fingers rest against his forearm, his skin warm to her touch. there’s nothing to say, and everything.

bobbi smiles then, and she closes her eyes, tears freed. she imagines what hartley would make of this, them, everything. it’s been so long that no scenario makes sense all the way.

after a while, hunter’s hugging her, and it’s almost too hot outside for this, but even still, bobbi wants nothing else.

//////////

two months post-S.H.I.E.L.D. and they’ve landed at a run-down motel, somewhere in the middle of alabama, where it’s all one-lane country roads and sleepy towns with a church at every street corner.

they’re not out of money, per se, but they owe some people, incidentally. so they’re laying low, as of two and a half weeks ago, and they’re over it.

their room, accessible only by a grody bronze key, is absolutely revolting but bobbi freefalls backwards onto the bed anyway, because _fuck it_.

bobbi would rather go hungry than to eat what they picked up at the only gas station within a 100-mile radius. she could go for sex - would love that release right about now, actually, and they’ve done seedier - but the smell surrounding them is so vile that even a trashy romp is out of the question.

hunter’s next to her, busy fidgeting with a plastic clock radio circa 1996 that sits atop a side table, along with a lamp that flickers every forty-five seconds. he’s cursing and muttering something about how _they’re in the bloody south_ and _not one country music station is coming in_ and _goddamn this day_.

bobbi rolls her eyes emphatically, then hops up from the bed and heads for the door.

“bob, wha-” hunter starts, brows furrowed and eyes wide. he’s already got the clock disassembled.

bobbi unlocks the deadbolt, spins around, sets her jaw with a glare.

“we’re getting out of this shithole. you coming or not?”

//////////

bobbi wakes up to lightning strikes and thunder booms disturbing her eardrums every few seconds, followed closely by a downpour pounding on the roof. a rainy sunday in london is almost the norm to her now.

she rolls to her other side, sprawling her body out diagonally, and resting her head on hunter’s abandoned pillows. light seeps through the cracks around their bedroom door, creating a large glowing rectangle.

bobbi spends five more minutes in bed, then wills herself to get up. the air chills her quickly, giving her goosebumps all over. she finds a pair of sweatpants, grabs hunter’s discarded star wars tee from the floor and freshens up at the bathroom sink. she needs a shower, but first, food. and coffee.

it’s been exactly one year since everything turned upside down, but now it feels like they’ve finally steadied. there’s an emptiness in the both of them that S.H.I.E.L.D. used to fill, that the team - their friends - used to fill. but they’ve got plans.

bobbi opens the door enough to peer through it and sees hunter in the kitchen. he’s pretending he’s a chef, in the midst of curating what she hopes is breakfast on the stove, while listening to british pop music that’s the kind of awful you end up enjoying.

he’s got a dish towel hanging from a belt loop as he leans over a pan, spoon in hand for a taste test. he responds with a badly enunciated “perfecto” and then a “shit” as a bit spills down his chin, onto his shirt, _and_ onto the floor.

bobbi forgets she’s being quiet and lets a little laugh slip. hunter catches notice, dabbing the towel at his chin. he’s smiling like a goof, all the way up to his eyes - his best smile, she thinks - and then he laughs, too, tossing the towel over his shoulder and getting back to it.

bobbi joins hunter in the kitchen, puts a lazy arm around his waist, asks how she can help. hunter tasks her with stirring, and she starts a pot of coffee while he monitors the last round of pancakes. they eventually retreat to the loveseat and coffee table, their crowded flat too small for anything more sophisticated.

they open a window as they finish eating, listening to the last of the storm. bobbi rests an arm on the back of the couch, props her head up with her palm. hunter catches her staring, and he stares right back, his eyes soft, a little sleepy. she sips at the last of her coffee.

maybe this is what building something real feels like.

**Author's Note:**

> i had big plans for this story and kind of lost all will to continue, but i didn't want this to go to waste. i hope you enjoyed this little bit! i miss them so.
> 
> also, i started writing this months ago and it's v. likely that the last line was inspired by [@loversdiction](https://twitter.com/loversdiction) \- i just can't find a specific tweet if it was. (check out that account anyway because it's wonderful.)


End file.
